


Drunk Bastards

by crookedneighbour



Category: Black Books, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Fluff and Crack, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is impressed Bernard doesn't recognize him. Bernard is impressed by Tony's refusal to get the fuck out of his shop.</p><p>A crack prompt for Fail Fandom Anon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Bastards

Bernard scowls as another customer enters the store. Based on the obnoxious sunglasses it can only mean one terrible thing. An American. 

Bernard throws up his best scowl and starts puffing his cigarettes wildly.

"We’re closed," he shouts, before he can further inspect the man. Probably some tourist looking for directions to the Queen’s vacation home or something else incredibly fucking stupid.

"And what do we have here?" comes a gratingly energetic voice. Some foreign bloke is standing at the front of his shop, in a nice suit and the ugliest sunglasses he has ever seen. He looks familiar, but Bernard writes that off as most American yuppies look the same to him.

"The last bastion against american literary imperialism. Quant isn’t it?" the stranger snipes. This is clearly more to himself than a statement towards Bernard. What is it about Americans that they just refuse to leave?

Bernard grumbles for a moment.

"I’m afraid the exterminator is coming and the fumes will be dreadful. Go home before it renders you unable to reproduce,” he tries. It’s a bit half-assed for his likes, but its only 3Pm and he still hasn’t gotten through his first pack of cigarettes. He waves his hands idly at the customer, then pulls the left over brandy out of the accounting drawer.

As he pours the drink their is a suspicious lack of customer leaving noises. No door bell. No “Well I nevers!”. This is incredibly disconcerting. He looks up and this customer is actually browsing. Where the hell does he think he is?

"Let’s see… Military History, Crime, Philosophy." drones the customer, idly pulling books off the shelves and tossing them to the side when done.

That is it. Bernard storms over to him immediately.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Coming in here like this is some sort of respectable establishment?” he snaps, angrily brandishing his liquor bottle.

The customer looks him over once, then lowers his sunglasses down the bride of his nose. Aside from the terrible glasses he is actually fairly well dressed. He shoots out an open palm.  
"Tony Stark of Stark Inudstries. Maybe you’ve heard of me?" he offers.

"No. Now get out."

This Tony’s eyebrows raises skeptically at Bernard.

"Iron Man? Privatized National Security?" tries Tony, clearly surprised.

"Nope. Now just go," Bernard raises the booze bottle emphatically at the door.

"The Avengers? Stark Tower? The time the world was attacked by Shakesperian aliens on hover crafts?" 

"This is the last time, I’m warning you. I’ll call the police!" shrieks Bernard, equally desperate.

Tony breaks into laughter.

"My god, I need to buy you a drink," he decides, clearly impressed by Bernard’s isolation.

Bernard stops suddenly, his interest peaked.

"A drink, you say?"

Perhaps customers weren’t so bad.  
—-  
It is a few hours in and Tony finds himself impressed by Bernard’s drinking capacity. Gotta love the Irish, right? From what he can tell this guy is some sort of Hemmingway type book store owner who spends most of his time getting drunk and terrorizing some blonde guy with a girls name, and then getting chewed out by Fran. Whoever Fran was. Se sounds a bit like Pepper, but it wasn’t really clear between the drunk and the accent.

He considers taking a photo of the back of the store just so he can text it to Pepper the next time she says his work room is a mess, but it seems like a waste of effort.

"And then… Mannie says…" Bernard adopts a fake falsetto tone for the next part, Tony isn’t entirely certain why…

"I thought you were actually," he mimics.

"Well were you?" Tony asks, idly. Not that he cares really. He’s too drunk to care. Also… Too awesome. Yeah…

Bernard sneers, and downs another shot, clearly wobbling.

"No… No no.." he slurrs. "Too much dancing."

"There’s really only one dance that matters," Tony quips in return, pointing off into the air. He should tell Steve tha—-  
—-  
"Now look what you’ve gone and done! I was saving those!" Bernard screams, energy beams firing beneath the bed. 

Tony stumbles and takes another shot at the thing under the bed. The BAC detector in the suit is going off again and the headache is making it hard for him to aim. Who installed that anyway? Fucking court orders.

"It’s there! Look out!"

There is a skittering noise as the bedroom dweller of Black books escapes again.  
—-  
It’s roughly 3am now and both of them are very very drunk. Bernard has already moved through his lunch time cigarettes, and Tony is tenderly cradling the second bottle of scotch. They’re sitting in the empty bath tub, as the battle with the bedroom creature has left most of the rooms thoroughly scorched.

"Lemme light offa yours…" mumbles Bernard leaning in towards Tony. 

Tony narrowly dodges getting burned with a cigarette for the second time, and catches Bernard who practically falls onto him.

He thinks on this for a moment.

"You know you could be… iffff you wahnned," he slurs, carefully examining Bernards face.

"Wha?"

Bernard turns to Tony drunkenly. Tony grabs his head and affectionately squeezes it into his own chest. There a clank and scotch starts spilling on the two of them.

"That…." whispers Bernard. Tony nods. Bernard slips an arm around Tony, not exactly sure if he’s right about the nature of the situation.

"But the cleaning—" Bernard whines. The warmth of Tony’s arc reactor is surprisingly pleasant.

"We’re ina bath tub. Iss fine," comforts Tony laying Bernard down on his back.

The first few kisses are messy, and as time passes they only get worse. It’s been some time since Bernard has kissed anyone, and both of them are rather drunk.

Tony climbs on top of him now, laying kisses down Bernard’s neck. As Tony goes to undress him the two of them struggle with the buttons of their clothes. The taste of alcohol is all over both of them, and this does prove rather distracting as well.

Bernard swears incomprehensibly, while Tony attempts to simply rip his own shirt apart. Neither seems particularly effective.

"Where’s Steve whenyuuu-" 

"Whoosee Steve?" interrupts Bernard. The two men giggle at each other for a moment. Tony shifts around so they can at least grind on each other through their clothes, though the feeling of grinding in wet clothes is slightly uncomfortable.

"Thass bedder," chirps Bernard. "Gimme yer hand ther’s scotch onnit." Bernard begins lapping at Tony’s hand and fingers, the pleasant burn of the alcohol filling his mouth.

Tony hisses as he resumes licking at Bernard as well, lifting his shirt to get at more scotch.

Bernard unconsciously bites down, twitching in response to Tony’s tongue.

"Christ.. Berns…" swears Tony, who then takes the opportunity to playfully bite back at him.

Bernard giggles again, as Ton  
y lifts his shirt up. In a flash of insight, hey manage to get their shirts off, remembering that plenty of people took clothes off before buttons.

Tony playfully pours the remaining scotch over Bernard’s chest.

"Thass not fair… Whydayuu get the ress of it," complains Bernard, as he runs his hands through Tony’s hair. Not that he doesn’t like the feeling of Tony’s mouth on him, that’s just very nice scotch.

"Here." Tony traces his finger through the pools of alcohol, then places his finger in Bernard’s mouth again. "Drink up."  
—-  
It is morning. Bernard can tell by the hang over. The naked American he found has had the decency to order breakfast for the two of them along with more cigarettes. In a disgusting diplay of enthusiasm Manny bursts into the shop, followed by some sort of pirate in a leather jacket, and either a men’s fashion model or a soldier. He isn’t sure which.

"Bernard Bernard! These Americans are looking for a friend they lost. Have you seen this man?" sings Manny, holding up a phto of Tony.

Tony looks up from his eggs, to see a very angry Steve Rogers and Nick Fury glaring him down.

"You had you use that photo really?"


End file.
